


Historias de un Amor

by Gabubu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Epic Bromance, F/M, Romance, il volo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabubu/pseuds/Gabubu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Absences have consequences. </p>
<p>Connected scenes exploring the convergence of the sixth hokage and Sakura. Follows parts of canon.</p>
<p>LATEST CHAPTER EDITED TO SUCK LESS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Historia de un amor

**Author's Note:**

> This collection of snippets will be inspired by Il Volo's beautiful voices. This one popped into my brain while listening to Historia de un amor (story of a love).

_Dios me hizo quererte para hacerme sufrir más_

Red chopsticks slipped grilled fish past a mask and into lips, faster than the girl could see. She was trying to be sneaky again, slipping glances his way as he devoured the simple meal of fish, rice, and miso. Sarada alternated between several different methods of seeing his face, coming to the conclusion that if a certain tactic didn't work the first time, eventually she would catch a glimpse of her parents' teacher's face. Kakashi, now fully in middle age, still found great amusement in messing with those whom really wanted to see his face.

Sakura ignored them, skewering a piece of fish violently, her self-control preventing the dish, table, and floor from becoming dust.

“I think it's already dead, Sakura-chan,” Kakashi remarked, smiling behind the cloth. Sarada giggled, swinging her legs in her chair-- not quite tall enough yet to touch the rug. Sakura glared, bristling green eyes making contact with crinkled gray ones. He looked away, memorizing the texture of the rice in his bright pink bowl. Sarada had been three, and she'd fallen in love with a bright pink dish set. Two later, they still ate from the set whenever Kakashi came by for dinner.

Sarada's dark eyes tinged uncertain, the stiff nature of her mother's shoulders and neck becoming more noticeable.

“Sarada-chaaan, did I ever tell you about the time I went bald?” Her small eyes behind her red glasses turned back to him, widening. Kakashi leaned toward her ear, whispering ominously: “this is a wig,” as he pointed at the silver rat's nest.

* * *

 

Sarada brushed her teeth upstairs as Sakura smashed the pink dishes hard enough for them to make semi-satisfying sounds but not so hard that any of them chipped. Kakashi leaned precariously against the kitchen island behind her, pretending to be absorbed in what looked like a guide to harvesting rice (Icha Icha under genjutsu).

 He pretended not to hear her stifling sobs. Not to see her shoulders warped inward from stress, anger, disappointment and pain. He heard Sarada gargle, then spit. Sakura's back quivered and he rested a palm over her shoulder, before whispering: “I'll tuck Sarada in,”

* * *

 Satisfied that no one was near, the sixth hokage touched the cenotaph, lightly tracing the smooth edge. Kakashi knew pain well. A lifetime of dead family members, dead teammates, sacrifices, wars, assassinations... his heart was either stone or gone.

But it was neither, it was flesh. It beat, pumping oxygenated blood to his body, and deoxygenated blood to the lungs. It didn't break-- cardiac muscle does not break. It tore. It split. It erupted, bursting messily.

It twisted when he learned Sakura gave birth on a mission. It tore in fantastic new ways every time Sarada's dark eyes peered out the window, saying nothing. Sakura raging quietly for seemingly no reason. Sakura destroying training ground after training ground after training ground.

His heart burst and erupted whenever she smiled and slid a pink bowl of rice with grilled fish on top.

Instead of clutching his chest, crumpling into a heap, and lamenting the mysterious, lacerating ways of the heart, Kakashi smiled.

Smiled at the fatherless child-- the husbandless wife. Smiled, sarcastically, at himself.

Sasuke's house, Sasuke's garden, Sasuke's wife, Sasuke's daughter. Things he coveted.

He'd decided Sakura was too dangerous. He didn't trust himself, there. Her pink lips were too softly swollen for his self-control.

So he smoothed flowery blankets over Sarada as her mother left to destroy another training ground, spinning a fantastic tale about a princess ninja.


	2. Historia de un Amor II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I wasn't done being inspired by the same song.

_Que le dio luz a mi vida, apagándola después_

The sun beamed softly through the large windows of the Uchiha household. Sunrise. Kakashi's face twitched as he awoke. His body was numb, rejecting wakefulness. Someone had tried to cover him with a  too-small blanket, his feet comically sticking out. 

 He sat up, lifting the lavender throw blanket and setting it aside. Sakura snored from the other couch, mostly covered by a yellow throw blanket.

Kakashi stretched, his spine crackling dramatically. Sarada peered at him from the stair's bannister. He flopped back on the couch.

“Thanks for tucking me in, Sarada-chan,” he smiled, straightening his mask.

“Kakashi-sama, go back to sleep,”

“Sarada-chan, you're not supposed to be awake,”

Gray and black eyes stared at each other. Sakura and Kakashi stayed up all night discussing a new method of creating a shunt from scar tissue to reroute cerebrospinal fluid, reducing pressure in those with hydrocephaly.

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered.

“Do you want this couch?” Kakashi stood, picking up the lavender throw blanket. Sarada shook her head, skipped to Sakura's couch and burrowed into her mother's side. Kakashi moved, covering the two of them with the yellow blanket as best as he could.

“That one's yours, go to sleep!” she said, as he started to cover them with the lavender one. Her chubby hand gestured at the couch he'd abandoned. Kakashi smiled, laying down on the couch and covering himself with the lavender throw blanket, kicking off his shoes.

There was no pillow, and the armrest stabbed slightly into the back of his head. The faint scent of Sakura's rosy perfume and Sarada's baby shampoo soothed him to sleep. Sarada started snoring, shockingly loud for a five year old. Kakashi felt weightless as he fell asleep.

* * *

 Kakashi strolled up the entrance, leaning lazily as he waited. Dressed like a penguin, he was Sakura's escort to the fundraising gala for the mobile medic clinic. Every year, a variety of medics traveled to less fortunate villages to offer a variety of care. The money raised at the gala covered the cost of supplies and transport.

He'd walked to the event center, certain that Sakura would be late. He pulled out Icha Icha, rereading the titillating 9th chapter for the millionth time.

Sakura arrived, breathless. She muttered something about an injured chuunin and the struggles of even eyeliner. Kakashi offered his arm, breathless. Perhaps more nervous than usual. Her plump lips had taken on a glossy surface.

All night, Kakashi stood beside her as she thanked the entire village for coming. This was as far into diplomacy he would venture into after his retirement as hokage. The usual polite nods, fake eye crinkles and occasional bows were punctuated by a sense that something was off.

His eyes swept the perimeter. Well-dressed villagers mingled and there were several open, easily accessible exits in case they were necessary. Nothing felt strange there. He looked at Sakura.

Her dress was the same-- some simple black thing at a respectable knee length. So was her hair: pinned into a tiny low bun. Her green eyes pierced his soul as usual, and he wanted to lick the gloss off her lips.

Slowly, foolishly, he realized it was himself.

Instead of just showering, the lingering scent of Seville orange, cedar, moss, and white musk balm clung to him. This suit was more tailored, displaying the sixth hokage's physique instead of swallowing him in two extra sizes. It had been easy to agree to the cologne after the tailor fitted him into the new suit. But who was he trying to impress?

The sixth hokage didn't, shouldn't try to impress. Especially not with several devastating layers of impropriety between himself and the student of Tsunade. Shame settled into Kakashi, and he resisted replacing himself with a clone. He waited for the eternal gala to end, resisting the urge to hide behind Jiraya's masterpiece.

Eons later, Sakura kicked off her shoes, wiggling her toes. Kakashi was dropping her off at her door, as usual. She would notice something was amiss if he disappeared immediately. Every year he accompanied her to the gala, walked her home, and laid on her roof staring at the stars until Kurenai dropped a sleepy Sarada off. Kakashi stretched, fingers nearly reaching the ceiling of the Uchiha porch, pretending everything was the same. Pretending his self control hadn't slipped.

Sakura brought him into an extended hug, wrapping her arms around his torso. She leaned her face against his chest as his heart ignored his orders and beat faster than a horse on a racetrack. Under the mask, his face contorted in surprise, glee, confusion, shame, excitement, devastation.

“Kakashi-sama--” Kakashi stopped breathing. He realized his arms betrayed him: they were around the medical director. His body burned, invisible flames furiously searing though him where he made contact with Sakura. He felt the world spin-- he was embracing Sakura in the Uchiha porch, in front of the Uchiha house. Even if she thought it was a platonic hug the heat coursing on his skin made it the complete opposite, for him. Sakura moved her head to look up at him, words beginning to form on her lips. Gray eyes bore into green ones.

Kurenai saved him. Kurenai destroyed him. Kurenai arrived, carrying a sleepy Sarada. Kakashi slipped onto the roof, Acqua di Parma's faint notes the only trace he left.

He breathed through Kurenai's brief visit, through Sarada getting tucked in and through Sakura's nightly routine before the patterns of the stars distracted him. They shined, winking at him in a profound mixture of black and deep midnight blue. Kakashi's heart calmed, but it didn't stop burning.

* * *

 Kakashi hummed, opening the gate to the Uchiha garden. He'd be due for dinner soon, and he was sure the fragrant tomatoes were ripe. He'd slice them up to accompany tonight's grilled fish. The garden looked vibrant: thriving with cucumbers, tomatoes, radishes-- he stopped mid-hum. Sasuke was shoving his tongue down Sakura's throat next to the apple tree. The apple tree Kakashi trimmed lovingly once a year. He disappeared.

At dinner, the dishes were white and the chopsticks were bamboo. The only fish present was a variety of sashimi surrounding a mound of crimson basashi. Deep fried battered vegetables and prawns were hastily piled high next to the abomination of raw fish and horse. Kakashi sipped his miso stiffly, having mentioned he was sick and only needed miso and rice.

Sarada spoke nonstop, staring at the man she could only remember from pictures. Sakura smiled and fawned over her husband, serving him more blood-red basashi whenever his plate was empty. Sasuke said nothing, expressionless. Kakashi ran out of miso, so he slowly moved one grain at a time into his mouth, distracting himself by attempting to swallow the sticky grain whole and without the aid of liquid. At some point, Sasuke sent Sarada to brush her teeth and the adults retired to the living area.

The yellow and lavender throw blankets were gone, probably folded up and stored in a closet. Sarada's colorful variety of toys were gone too, probably put away in the usually empty storage chest. How could she play with them if they were put away? Kakashi declined sake, citing his illness.

Sakura reached for him, intent on checking his vitals. “No, Sakura-chan, I think Ichiraku is getting senile... I don't think he washed his hands,” deciding that those words were convincing enough, he dissolved into a puff of smoke.

Kakashi's body felt heavy as he walked into his quiet apartment. He reached for a friendly bottle of shochu. Maybe this would extinguish the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so much harder to write this than the first part. I must challenge myself to get back in writing shape! 
> 
> Basashi is raw horse meat sashimi. 
> 
> I want to mention that this first one is Kakashi-centric. We'll find out what Sakura was going to say or how she felt about these things later on.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Recuérdame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took forever because what was supposed to be chapter 3 was not meant to be. Then I was hella busy.
> 
> Hope you like it :)
> 
> Inspired by Il Volo's Recuérdame

_Recuérdame amándote, mirándote a los ojos, atándome a tu vida_

Stubble poked through the cloth across his face, the persistent scent of shochu clinging to his breath. A fresh, slightly scratchy jounin uniform encapsulated his restless body. The sixth hokage had a purpose. A purpose beyond reading Icha Icha and festering in melancholy and shochu.

Sauntering into the hokage's tower, he rummaged through the available ANBU missions. Perhaps an assassination was in order. There had to be at least one triple-target assassination mission available. Kakashi lazily sifted through, deciding several were too close to Fire Country.

“Kakashi-sensei? What are you doing?” Naruto said, the salty scent of shoyu ramen broth tickling Kakashi's nose.

“Ah. Well. A little old lady told me she needed help with an assassination, and who am I to deny assistance?” Naruto stared at his predecessor. Kakashi cleared his throat and continued looking.

“Are you- Are you giving yourself a mission?! Can you do that?!” Naruto looked around, trying to see if anyone that knew was around.

“Yeah,” he guessed. Naruto flopped onto the nearest desk, grabbing his stomach. He'd eaten too much, again. He stared into space, either thinking or in a food coma. Kakashi settled on a mission: a combination infiltration and quadruple stealth assassination. He made for the window.

“Sensei, maybe-maybe you shouldn't go alone?” Kakashi felt tired, angry, guilty, ancient.

“Yamato. I'll be at the gate in 3 hours,”

“Sensei, I'm wo-” an icy breeze cooled Naruto's nose as he realized Kakashi left the window open after his departure.

* * *

 Kakashi made his way to the Uchiha residence, dressed in ANBU gear sans mask. He walked up the Uchiha porch and let himself in. Sarada needed to know he was leaving. The first floor was empty, so he started up the stairs. Maybe she was playing in her room.

Four steps up, an unmistakable aroma overcame his nose. A slick, salty, sensual smell of mixed origins. He gagged, nausea building as painful images of Sakura submitting to her husband haunted him.

A sour, acrid taste invaded his mouth as he remembered that it wouldn't be that way. It would be mutual. Kakashi silently closed the main door behind him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, ordering the nausea to dissolve.

Sakura's former neighbor guided Sarada toward the Uchiha door. Sarada freed her hand from the woman's crinkly grasp and ran to the sixth hokage, arms outstretched.

“Kakashi-samaaaa!!” he picked her up by the armpits and swung her around once, forgetting himself. Whenever they went longer than a week without seeing each other Sarada always ran toward him, expecting to be swung around. He set her down, gently patting her head.

“Sarada-chaaaan, I have news,” she looked at him, adjusting her pink glasses to get a better look at his wise gray eyes.

“There's a princess I must save. Kaguya-hime needs my help,” Sarada became solemn.

“You remember Kaguya-hime,” Kakashi stated.

“The bamboo princess,” Sarada nodded. It all made sense, at least to a 5 year old. Yui smiled, glad that an old folktale remained alive.

Kakashi waved and disappeared.

The sixth hokage resisted leaving on time, or waiting at the gate. It would be out of character: Yamato would notice and wonder why he wasn't late. He slipped the cold ceramic mask on and looked for a comfortable roof.

Ethereal clouds drifted in the clear sky. They moved calmly, languidly. Kakashi took his ANBU mask off, setting it by his side. He lowered his cloth mask, allowing the light to sparkle against his silver stubble. Alone, he allowed himself to slip into jealousy. Angry, destructive jealousy: he wished it was his scent intermixed with her's instead of her husband's. Unfairness: all Sasuke had to do was leave, return more than five years later and fuck his wife like nothing was wrong. Like she didn't seethe and leave ruins where training fields once were.

Sasuke didn't even bring his wife and daughter to the village. Sakura returned to Konoha, smelling of afterbirth. She was still bleeding, followed by a red-haired woman that strapped a newborn Sarada to her chest with a wide red cloth.

Five years ago, Kakashi sat on the Uchiha roof, angry that his former student allowed herself to be treated that way. He concealed his presence a first: laying against the even tiles, reading in the daytime and counting stars by night. One day Karin departed at dawn to pick up some fresh produce. Sarada was crying. Sakura was crying.

Kakashi stepped in through a window and rubbed Sakura's back as she sobbed, willing Sarada to nurse. Eventually Sakura fell asleep. Kakashi picked up the baby, gently resting her against his chest, patting her back to induce burping. Something stirred in his heart.

Sarada turned three months old and Karin left. Kakashi found himself spending time at the Uchiha household, changing diapers and making rice. Time tethered him to Sarada and Sakura. His heart felt inextricably melded to them. But they were Sasuke's.

Kakashi seared with fury, wishing the quadruple assassination didn't have to be stealthy. He released shuriken at a neighboring tree.

“Kakashi-sama--” summoned by his thoughts, the medical director stood on the roof, wearing a long white lab coat over her signature red dress. She still smelled of him. Kakashi slipped away his shuriken, nausea rising. He raised his mask.

“Sarada-chan told me you're going to save a princess?” she looked at his ANBU uniform, eyes resting on the exposed ANBU tattoo.

“I have a mission,” he resisted the urge to disappear; the need to cover his nose.

“How lo--”

“Sakura. I will be gone as long as the mission takes,” he said, withholding facial expressions and tone of voice.

“Kakash--” the sixth hokage was gone. The scent of tears reached him as he departed. Kakashi ached. Her pain was his pain.

But she never remembered him or thought of him. He was simply a dirty, disgusting old man. A placeholder for when her husband was gone, something to keep the cold restlessness away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I can't wait for the rest :)


	4. Constantemente mía

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Il Volo's "Constantemente mía", the one without Belinda in it. 
> 
> I'm going to take this opportunity to (lazily) translate the chapter titles & italicized lyrics to English, it'll help or something (??)  
> Ch1 & Ch2: "Historia de un amor" "Story of a love"  
> 1: God made me love you to make me suffer more  
> 2: Which gave light to my life, extinguishing it after  
>   
> Ch3: "Recuérdame" "Remember me"  
> Remember me, loving you; looking you in the eyes; binding myself to your life  
>   
> Ch4: "Constantemente mía" "Constantly mine"  
> You encompass every throb of my solitude

_Abarcas cada palpitar de mi soledad_

Kakashi salted the trout, pressing extra on the fish head and fins. He propped them up carefully against the flames of a dying fire. Yamato emerged from the small wooden structure, towel drying his hair from his quick rinse in the lake.

“Shioyaki?” Kakashi nodded in response. Not yet close to the destination, Yamato and Kakashi traveled like ANBU. No trace, no identities. Kakashi laid back, resting his head on an arm as the fire puttered. Yamato sighed and sat next to him.

“Kakashi-sama,” the sixth hokage closed his eyes. “Something is wrong,” he said. Kakashi sat up, pulling up a scroll with him. He activated it, releasing a bottle of shochu. Yamato formed two wooden cups, placing them between himself and his senpai. Yamato poured as Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose.

Yamato was organizing his pack when Kakashi appeared one week ago, one hour before he said he would be at the gate. A full 4 hours before Yamato expected to see him. He was furious, his movements jerky and full of undeniable restlessness-- like he needed to pierce someone with kunai. Yamato saw the fire erupting between the medical director and the sixth hokage. Noticed Sakura's sudden addition of makeup and Kakashi's venture into cologne and form-fitting suits.

He saw the bond between Sarada and Kakashi. Sarada running to be swung around. Sarada leading the silver haired man to a food cart, requesting a big roasted rice cracker all for herself. Kakashi wandering the toy market, poking at dolls and buying illustrated folktale anthologies. In public, he visibly showered only Sarada with affection.

But Yamato saw the beneath the underneath. Sasuke was only in Konohagakure for two days before Kakashi assigned himself a tedious, long mission a week and a half's worth of travel away. Naruto had informed him of this, wide eyed and confused.

“I can't see them anymore,” Kakashi stated. Yamato maintained a neutral expression. Kakashi drained his cup. Yamato rummaged through words in his head, finding something somewhat neutral, something subtle to say.

“Sarada-chan didn't do anything wrong,” Yamato said as he refilled his friend's cup. Kakashi turned away. Already, Kakashi missed her. The way she still believed his outrageous excuses and asked for stories after dinner. He missed her mother too, but every image of her was repeatedly desecrated by a looming figure in his mind's eye. As well as a pressure in his chest. Kakashi nodded slowly.

“I don't need to see Sakura to read to Sarada,” he said, turning back toward Yamato, picking up his cup. The fire's light accentuated the bags under his eyes and the scruffiness granted by the beard he'd cultivated. Yamato pretended not to see the agony in gray eyes, readying for another pour.

* * *

A sliver of crimson slipped from the ruptured flesh, reminding him of her favorite color. Yet the pain remained, clutching at the edges of his vision, manifesting in the cruelty of his grip on the kunai. He mentally checked off the first target.

The second had green eyes nearly as bright as her's, distracting him for a moment. The target broke his ribs before Kakashi inserted poison via senbon.

Breakfast: grilled fish over rice with miso. Sakura's signature dinner. Another distraction, another unattainable memory danced before his eyes.  This target smashed his right shoulder and knocked Kakashi into a concussion.

Yamato's kunai through third target's neck saved the sixth hokage's life.

Kakashi awoke, feeling heavy and numb. His body's muscles refused to contract, so he lifted his head. It was a shack, an ANBU hideout deep within a damp forest. He blinked, the crusting on his eyes poking his eyelids. Kakashi was draped over a cot, hooked up to an intravenous solution of saline and anti-nausea medicine. His head hurt, a particular spot feeling like a bruised apple.

An ANBU medic came up, examining his general ability to travel back to Konohagakure. Her cold hands pressed against his numbed body, roughly poking around. She was nothing like Sakura. The medic nodded, slipped on her mask, picked up her pack and left.

He noticed Yamato sat on the cot next to him, facing his general direction. Probably looking at him. Kakashi wondered if he should pretend to sleep or sit up.

“Kakashi-sama,” Kakashi closed his eyes. He was alive; Yamato was alive. The mission: a presumed success, despite setbacks. He'd give Naruto some excuse. “The medic cleared you for travel. We leave at dawn,” Yamato sighed, laying down.

“Thank you, Tenzou,” Kakashi appreciated many things about his friend. Most of all: his selective silence.

* * *

Sakura stared out the kitchen window. The garden was overgrown and dying. The deep red, juicy tomatoes were rotting. The cucumbers were overripe. She used to return from work, exhausted and hands dry from antiseptic, to find Kakashi rummaging through the leaves and vines. He'd hand Sarada plump tomatoes to set in a basket alongside tender eggplant and crisp peppers. Before dinner she'd usually give the vegetables a rinse. She'd throw them in the miso or place them on a cheery pink plate. But now there was nothing but plain rice and fish and miso for dinner.

When Sasuke was here, he didn't water the garden. He didn't pick vegetables. She'd come home to find Yui knitting and Sarada playing, her father off sparring. Five years without him and he couldn't spend time with his daughter.

At the gate, he kissed her. Mechanically, devoid of passion. “I will send Karin in nine months,” he said, leaving once again.

Tears slid down Sakura's face, as she stared at the shambles of a garden and reflected on the ruins of her marriage. She would not bring another child into this farce, Sasuke's wishes be damned.

* * *

 Sakura slid on her lab coat, taking it from a peg near the door to her office. Guilt curdled her stomach since the day Kakashi left. The way he recoiled when she looked for him, stopping Sasuke's attempts at making another Uchiha to say goodbye. To wish him luck on his mission. To say she'd miss him.

He and Yamato were expected to return today, the last report placing them three days away three days ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Shit gets real next chapter if everything goes according to plan. :D


	5. En el Centro del Sol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Il Volo's "En el centro del sol" - in the middle of the sun
> 
> (lazy) Italicized text translation: you know well, that within you there is a thirst to believe  
> you know there is something more, perhaps another life

_Sabes bien, que hay en ti, esta sed de creer_

_sabes que hay algo mas, otra vida quizás_

Konohagakure's gates appeared, half an hour away. Kakashi unstuck himself from Yamato's side, conjuring chakra to his ribs and shoulder, numbing the pain. He felt crusty. Not from blood-- the bored medic presumably rinsed him off at the recovery shack-- but from grime and sweat. Leaning his weight on Yamato only made the both of them sweat, the salty smell permeating both of their uniforms. Kakashi's head felt like a brick, clouded by the concussion. He could still function. But every thought and movement required significant effort to reach beyond the confines of the mental fog. For half an hour, Yamato pretended his friend wasn't struggling to walk upright, grimacing behind the mask to keep the nausea at bay.

The ANBU arrived at the gate, masks hidden in their packs. The gatekeepers nodded at them, and the pair continued past. Sakura appeared from above, cracking the earth beneath her only a little.

She darted her green hands at Kakashi's chest. He dodged, sweating at the exertion. He stored away the memory of her lab coat billowing behind her as she aimed at him again.

“I'm fine,” he slurred. Kakashi formed seals rapidly, using the last of his stamina. Smoke unfurled him in his room. He collapsed onto his bed; he lost consciousness over the covers.

Sakura touched Yamato's forehead, quickly scanning him for injuries.

“Yamato-san, please drink plenty of water and rest for a few days,” she shouted as she bounded off, heading toward the sixth hokage's home.

Kakashi lived in a small house built on stilts, on the edge of the village against the trees. It was rough-looking, crafted from lumber connected with steel nails. A dying sunflower withered in a gaudy pot next to the door. The daimyo sent it after he heard the sixth hokage had a penchant for plants. Sakura ignored the trap-laden entrance and slipped below the house, searching for the emergency exit. Two dispelled traps later, she was in.

He was unconscious, breathing loudly in his ANBU uniform. Sakura gently slipped the mask from his face, staring at the long silver beard. She smoothed back his rebellious hair, oily from travel. Silently, she undressed him, probing and healing until he lay peacefully below his sheets. He had a new rib and shoulder injury as well as a concussion and possible cervicalgia. The injuries were healed by a medic but irritated from strenuous travel. He needed intravenous fluids, nausea medication, muscle relaxers and follow up. Sakura pulled a notepad from her coat, scribbling.

Kakashi woke, jerking his arm away. Blood dripped from the slipping needle and tubing of the intravenous line. He pulled the line off his arm, pressing a finger against the poke. He looked around, processing. He was in his room, naked, below his sheets. Sakura stood next to him, gloved and scowling.

“That was a perfect placement, Kakashi-sama,” Kakashi focused on her face, dazed. He let go of his arm, allowing the blood to run.

“Sakura, what are you doing here?” he felt oddly clean after passing out on his bed. He smelled an armpit. He didn't vomit, so she probably bathed him. Completely inappropriate.

“You're dehydrated,” she said. She picked up another needle and tubing.

“I don't need this,” he pulled his arm away. His headache pulsed, reminding him that it was there.

“You have a concussion,” she held him down, applied a cotton ball and tape to his first cut and set to work on another. He moved, twisting his body away from her. She pinned his torso with a knee.

The sixth hokage reflected on his life choices.

“Sakura. This is completely--” he turned away from her and retched, vomiting nothing. His stomach was empty. The medical director released fluids into his vein, and quickly twisted an anti-nausea medication through a syringe. Coldness seeped into him from the line. His head throbbed, the pain returning now that he was awake. Sakura read his mind and twisted a second syringe through. She pressed a hand against his forehead and eased some of the pressure against his eyes.

“Sakura,” Kakashi closed his eyes. “Send someone else, send Ino,” in reality any minor medic could do this.

“Why?” she leaned into the chair she brought from his kitchen. “I missed you-” she started to whisper.

“Sakura,” he sat up, keeping his eyes closed. “You're married,”

“I know,” she thundered. “I can't miss you if I'm married?”

“No,” he said. “You can't. You have to miss him,” Kakashi started to slide down, slumping back into sleep.

* * *

Naruto poised orange chopsticks over a steaming bowl of ramen. It was beautiful, the deep tones of the broth, the buoyancy of the vegetables. Ichiraku even used premium fish cake! The seventh hokage finally had respite from his demanding duties. Naruto inhaled the steam, allowing the umami aroma to relax him.

Sakura slipped in through the window just as he picked up a perfectly softened cluster of noodles.

“Naruto-kun,”

“Sakura-chan! Let's have lunch! Hiro can ord--”

“Naruto-kun, do you promise not to hate me?” Sakura interrupted. Naruto set his chopsticks carefully on the frog shaped hashioki. Confused at her request, he nodded.

“I need a dissolution of marriage,” Naruto looked at her blankly. “...a divorce,” she whispered.

Naruto picked up his chopsticks and rapidly shoved noodles in his mouth. Sakura ran her hands through her hair and took a seat across the hokage's desk. Naruto slurped loudly as he tried to think of something to say. An idea fluttered into his mind, causing him to set his bowl down while a bit of broth remained.

“Sakura-chan, the bond between the three of us as comrades and teammates is strong enough that you should talk to him. If there are problems between you, bring him home,”

Sakura took a breath.

“I don't miss him,” the hokage looked horrified. “I--I don't miss him as a husband. I miss him as a teammate,”

Naruto willed his horror to fade: “I think... Sakura-chan, I don't know. I need to speak to an adviser,”

Sakura stood, walking toward the door. “I have a meeting soon, I'll get going,” she said.

“Sakura-chan, maybe if you don't bring him back, maybe you could talk to Sasuke. I know he's a bastard, but he's our bastard,” the seventh hokage said, glumly looking at the particles floating in the now lukewarm broth.

* * *

Kakashi woke, stretching, popping his shoulder's joints. His room was cluttered with empty and new intravenous fluid bags and indistinguishable medical supplies. A new potted succulent adorned his bedside table. A happy red bow winked at him as it adorned the pot.

The sixth hokage rose. An improper sense of affection was one thing. Something seemingly reciprocated was another. Even worse if it was real. If it was real, how long until it stopped when he came back? If it wasn't real, there was no point in getting his hopes up.

He yanked out his line, ignored the nearby gauze and tied a T shirt around his arm to stop the bleeding. Reaching under his bed, he retrieved a pack, slung it over his back and headed out, leaping into the leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I literally worked all of September without a single day off. I was too exhausted to write anything good. This chapter was not looked over as much as my chapters usually are, so there's surely typos and mistakes.
> 
> I love my Naruto scenes more than anything else in this story, lol


	6. Espléndida

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Espléndida by Il Volo.
> 
> This chapter is told in a different way than the other chapters, it's more fragmented, smaller scenes. I hope you like it. I felt that this was best for this chapter to move things along without bogging the plot down with excessive filler. 
> 
> Lazy translations:  
> Espléndida- magnificent (more nuance than this, but I'm lazy asf and this is sufficient. If you want all the details look up the word on the real academia española and translate the results)  
> Italicized text- who said to love was a world of joy

_Quien dijo que amar seria un mundo de alegría_

The sun's rays gently alighted the room. Dawn recently passed, and the hokage enjoyed the quiet calmness of the hour. Tedious tasks would begin soon. Naruto delicately sipped a hot sugary concoction of chocolate and cream. 

The Hokage's chamber's door slammed open, the knob embedding into the wall. Breaking his concentration on the sweetness coating his tongue. He set his mug down on a coaster. Naruto swallowed, an urge overcoming him to massage his temples like an old man.

“Where is he?! Where is he?!!” the medical director yelled, fluttering into the room, haggard. Naruto re-positioned his mug. He knew things would be difficult after he read the note Pakkun delivered in the middle of the night. He conjured his calm hokage face.

“The sixth hokage is on vacation. Kakashi-sensei is safe and healthy,” Hinata advised he say these words. She said it would make Sakura calm down and stop asking questions. Sakura's face reddened.

“But! Where?!” Naruto gestured for her to take a seat. The medical director sat, smoothing the sweater she wore over pajamas. Naruto took a deep sip of hot chocolate, allowing the rich flavor to make him process things. He decided to repeat himself.

“He's somewhere safe and he's on vacation,” he said.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S ON VACATION," she shouted, shifting in her chair. Naruto channeled energy into remaining calm, instead of shaking her by the shoulders and screaming why. That would only escalate into a fight, and those were not good for the hokage to be doing.

"Sakura-chan, this is really weird. Why are you so worried?" he said, twisting his eyebrows as she flushed pink.

“I am concerned about his health. He has a concussion and is dehydrated,” Sakura stated, willing the blush to recede. Naruto's eyebrows twisted further into themselves.

“He's gone through worse,” he said, thoroughly confused.

“Yes. You're right Naruto-kun. I-'m going to go get ready for work now,” she rose and departed.

Naruto stared at the open door, gears turning in his head. He picked up his orange mug and sipped, calculations running through his mind.

*

Kakashi stretched, tired from finishing his shelter-- a combination of leaves and secret techniques. He'd sent the hokage a note as soon as he was satisfied with the distance between himself and other humans-- he didn't want his escape to be mistaken as a defection. Along his coordinates, he'd written a stern order for the hokage to keep his location to himself. It was solidly morning now and his stomach grumbled hungrily. He'd nap first before finding something to eat.

A frog croaked at him, dropping a note and disappearing just as his eyes began to close. Kakashi sat up, reading the note:

_Why does Sakura worry about you? It's strange._

Kakashi turned the note over and fished for a pen in the pouch on his leg, scrawling:

_Dunno_

He whistled for Pakkun and tried to think of something other than her, focusing on how fortunate he was that Naruto was a bit slow.

*

Sakura kissed Sarada's forehead, cheeks, and both of her hands. She held her in for a hug so long the five year old started to squirm and kick her legs. She set her down and nodded at Yui. Midday approached soon and she needed to get started.

“I should be back in four days... if I can't find him I'll try again another time,” she said. Yui nodded, taking a seat on one of the couches. Sakura picked up her pack and headed for the door.

*

Kakashi tore open a pouch of rations, gently pouring in the proper amount of boiling water. He waited, kneeling next to the fire. His vacation camp consisted of his shelter atop a tree, a hole containing some supplies, booby traps, and a small clearing with a fire in the center. When he wasn't feeling lazy he traveled a bit and collected fish from a nearby lake. Sometimes he slipped into an ANBU outpost for meat.

The proper time elapsed and Kakashi picked up his metal chopsticks, opening the pouch. The label said donburi. Donburi* elicited thoughts of a heaping mound of vegetables and succulent meat atop perfect rice. This was overcooked squishy rice with the saddest furikake*, crammed into foil-like packaging.

Laziness had its pros and cons: emergency rations were definitely a con.

*

She was covered in dust, sweat, and exasperation. She couldn't find him. Fucking Sasuke-- how would she find him within four days if he was sneaking around?

Sakura stomped, crumbling the earth. Exhausted, hungry, and angry. She started to spar against nothing, expending energy through ferocious kicks and precise hooks. Trying to work off the sinking feeling in her soul.

Tears gushed from her eyes: Sarada was at home with Yui, instead of with her. Sakura was using up her paid time off to look for her absent husband-- one good at hiding. Kakashi was “on vacation”-- who knows where he was or if she would ever see him again-- surely the sixth hokage avoided her. Worst of all, Naruto's eyebrows suspected something-- even if he was too daft to figure it all out. She hoped he was too daft to figure it out.

She sat against a tree, taking deep shuddering breaths, a blur of pink and red against brown and green.

*

Sasuke meditated when a frog appeared, dropped a note and popped into nothingness. He scowled. Picking up the note, he wondered what Naruto wanted this time-- he was in no mood for small talk or news about how amazing and wonderful his children were.

_Sakura is looking for you. Right now. She is being weird._

He rose, reaching into the empty ANBU outpost for his pack. ANBU had several hidden shacks stocked with lean supplies along recovery outposts. Sasuke frequented the off-duty outposts on his travels. From these locations he updated the hokage on his mission. Sasuke slipped on a baggy black cloak. Sasuke's soul was too restless. An itching in his legs kept him moving, unable to stay in one place for too long.

Before heading toward Konoha (or where a person from Konoha might start looking for him) he headed toward the nearest civilian village. Karin scolded him thoroughly several times for not "valuing" what he had, so he figured it was a good time to pick up a necklace. He'd find her, hear the news that she was pregnant, give her the necklace and send her back.

*

Kakashi awoke, coated in sweat. Uncomfortably heavy in areas. He dreamed again, of what it must have been _like_ when she bathed him. _How_ she might have bathed him.

His mind ruminated sinfully, conjuring images Sasuke'd try to kill him for. Though many things were blurry-- he distinctly remembered a knee on his torso. The area strung pleasantly, like a burn on the skin. He moved out of the shelter and hopped onto the surface below. The moonlight softly lighted his abdomen as he began jogging toward the lake.

*

Shikamaru stared at the hokage. He knew Naruto was an idiot, but this was beyond idiocy.

“Sasuke came back, Kakashi 'acted weird'. Sasuke left, Sakura and Kakashi both 'acted weird',” Naruto nodded.

“Before Sasuke came back Kakashi spent lots of time with her and Sarada, no?” Naruto nodded, his eyebrows beginning to twist. Shikamaru stared at him.

“Sakura told you she doesn't miss him, but she went after him. Kakashi is hiding in the forest,” Naruto nodded again. Shikamaru resisted the urge to smash his head against Naruto's desk. Or shake him violently.

"So...what do you think?" Naruto asked.

“This is troublesome,” he concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Donburi: "...a Japanese "rice bowl dish" consisting of fish, meat, vegetables or other ingredients simmered together and served over rice." (Wikipedia)  
> Furikake: "...a dry Japanese seasoning meant to be sprinkled on top of cooked rice, vegetables, and fish." (Wikipedia)  
> (If anyone follows Gintama there's a joke where Gin-chan says they can barely even afford furikake for their rice or something. Love it.)
> 
> Note regarding honorifics: I am having the hardest time with them. It is more authentic to include them always-- I've never heard a Japanese speaker omit honorifics (-san, -sama, etc). But in English they are not used and they sort of clutter things up and make things awkward imo. So I'm trying to find a balance throughout this fic between enough honorifics so it's somewhat authentic, because Naruto is Japanese; and not using them at all to make things flow smoother in English. Let me know what you think about that, if you have thoughts please.


	7. Me dediqué a perderte I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Alejandro Fernandez's "Me dediqué a perderte" ("I dedicated myself to losing you")
> 
> I could lie and say this was a hard chapter due to the content. I just had a hard time finding the right song for this.
> 
> Lazy translation of italicized text:  
> That that love had escaped you  
> that the day had come  
> that you no longer loved me (literally "felt me")

_Que aquel amor se te _escapo__  
_que había llegado el día_  
_que ya no me_ _sentías_  


Black boots slammed the dirt path. Dust settled on her seething feet. He was too hard to find. Finding him in four days was impossible. Sakura turned back.

It was a beautiful day, the sun smiling in the clear sky, birds lazily nesting in the trees above. The leaves gently waving in the wind. An image of Sarada skipping after butterflies filled her mind. If she hurried back she might spend a whole day with her. A whole day, without work or obligation. A smile graced the medical director's lips.

The birds ceased their nesting, quieting. Thoughts of butterfly nets clouded her mind. A shadowy figure descended. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes.

Sakura directed chakra into her fists, readying. Her husband rested a palm on her lower back. She recognized his chakra and touch, relaxing. But the muscles did not completely extend.

Her chakra left her hands. He pressed moist lips against her neck, gently licking.Sakura shuddered, not quite repulsed. He pulled her toward him, lips aiming for her face. A whirlwind of movement and a respectable distance appeared between them.

“Sasuke-- we need to talk,” she said, tucking her short hair behind both ears at once. A more observant man may have noticed this as a sign of nervousness or perhaps seriousness to come.

Sasuke, though strong, though resilient, though an excellent ninja-- did not observe this. Sometimes what we don't expect isn't seen.

“About what?” he asked, injured that she denied his advances. His visage and tone maintained their monotone, concealing. Usually any touch slipped, erupted as far as he wanted.

Maybe she wanted to name the second child something other than Sūpu*.

“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura dragged him down to the ground with her strength. She sat, as Sasuke crouched. Moments slipped past, him waiting for her to speak and she waiting for him to sit. Their hands remained connected. She rubbed his hand gently with both hands.

“What's going on?” he stated, still crouching. Alarm creeped into his tone, her comforting hand movements beginning to quicken the beating of his heart.

“I need...” she exhaled, “a divorce,” she whispered. The leaves stood still. The wind paused. She stopped breathing, freezing the exchange of air in her alveoli.

Sasuke stood, vertebrae clashing into rigidity. Tenseness creeping into his body, beginning from the back of his head through his shoulders. A weakness spread on his body as nausea erupted. Their hands had separated just as easily as those words had been uttered.

Why? What? How? 

Sasuke's eyes narrowed, zeroing in on green.

 Who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ス―プ　(Sūpu), soup. Because Sarada is サラダ, salad. GET IT? Soup and Salad? I'm terrible.
> 
> Thank you for reading! The rest should be up sooner than this one. Let me know what you think. :)
> 
> This is part one of this chapter. Part two should be up soon.


	8. The Arena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by nothing, these things had to happen. Spotify went to Lindsey Stirling while I was writing.
> 
> I'm super tired from work so I am sorry for the errors you will probably find.

Sasuke's eyes narrowed dangerously. He closed his eyes, veins pulsing on his forehead, neck, and forearms, leading to twin clenched fists. Sakura swallowed. She breathed carefully. The suffocating grasp of fear brought nausea to the surface. Stealthily, she slipped chakra into her muscles. She could fight or take cover in the trees.

For a moment, everything stilled as she waited for him to react. The breeze, the sun's heat, the movement of insects.

“That's enough,” drawled Shikamaru. The estranged couple looked up. Shikamaru lounged atop a sturdy branch, one hand keeping his balance on the tree and the other shoved against the seventh hokage's mouth. The seventh hokage's face was crimson, a combination of confusion and outrage. He removed his hand.

Naruto leaped from the tree, landing between them. He reached for Sasuke's shirt, shoving him against a tree: “Don't do anything stupid, you bastard! I'll kick your ass!”

Sakura interrupted Sasuke's snarl, “Naruto, I can defend myself--”

“Alright. Look, there's no point in destroying this forest or brawling to near-death. The cleanup would be troublesome,” Shikamaru stated.

Sasuke locked his glare on Shikamaru. He casually slipped off the tree branch, draping himself leisurely against the trunk. “There's three ANBU teams waiting to break up the fight with sedatives,” the lazy ninja stated. He lit a cig and held it in his fingers as he looked blankly at Sasuke. Sakura glanced at the forest canopy, noticing the glint of multiple metal piercing instruments.

“Those would be useless against me,” Sakura stated. Shikamaru turned his indolent gaze to her.

“You are not foolish enough to fight him unless he starts,” he stated. Sakura kept her face expressionless, despite the fact that he was right. Sasuke shoved Naruto off him and fastened the cloak tighter around his shoulders. Naruto glared, preparing to rage.

Shikamaru brought a hand up to his face, rubbing dramatically. After several moments he removed his hand and stated: “I have a proposition,”

“Listen up, bastard!” the hokage ordered, moving to stand beside Shikamaru.

*

“So, it seems to me, that there is a difference in what you both want, and that it will be difficult to compromise. But that is why I have been called, why the Seventh Hokage personally requested my assistance,” the old man lightly brushed invisible dust from a sleeve. Sasuke looked at his hands and Sakura resisted the urge to cringe. She'd met with this old man with Sasuke twice now, awkwardly discussing what she wanted in a marriage. Shame enveloped her, what would Sasuke do if he knew who she thought of? With whom she'd shared experiences she told Hito were part of an ideal marriage?

“As you know, marriage is such a sacred and wonderful bond, an agreement between two people to love and create more life,” Sakura swore Sasuke's chin raised by millimeters.

“But this cannot be done with considerable distance between the husband and wife,” Sakura stood a little straighter in her wooden chair.

“As such, I propose that there be a 6 month period in which you live as you were meant to from the beginning. Together,” Sasuke smirked. “In Konohagakure,” it disappeared. The old man paused to cough, taking a considerable amount of time to clear his throat. Sakura gripped the armrests, splintering them lightly, letting the sting distract her from her nerves.

“If you are unable to reconcile during this time, I will advise the Seventh Hokage to dissolve your marriage," Hito-san said, a sense of importance beaming through his tone.

*

Hiro placed a large mug in front of the lazy ninja. Shikamaru sat in the hokage's chamber, zoning out while Naruto alternatively gushed about his genius idea and took deep sips of hot cocoa enriched with cinnamon.

His calculations were correct: Sasuke could still not handle emotions well. Especially negative ones. The murderous intent displayed earlier confirmed it.

Sakura was different. Before, she would've tried to placate him, calm him down. She never would've taken a defensive stance.

But this was none of his business. The hokage was off his back, there was no battle, and now Naruto would stop asking him stupid questions about his teammates' love lives.

*

Sakura opened the door, leading Sasuke in to the living room. Sarada scribbled crayons into a famous woodblock print* coloring book, surrounded by discarded dolls, opened books, colorful blocks, various sizes of bamboo practice swords, many colorful balls, a series of stuffed animals, and a play ceramic western tea set. The couch cushions were strewn with several pastel blankets bunched up around the floor. Yui was nearby in the kitchen, filling warm rice-pillows with pickled plums. Sarada looked up, seeing her mother.

“Mommy!!!” she ran, Sakura picked her up, swung her once and kissed her cheeks. Sasuke stood, out of place. An angle in a sea of rounded edges.

*

Kakashi carried fish back to the hideout, Pakkun trotting by his side. He wore a loose jounin outfit: a throwback to his pre-hokage days. His beard was out of control-- t stuck out in all directions, more unruly than his hair. Out here, he didn't bother with a mask. It was nice to rough it out. To settle into bed too exhausted for his mind to ruminate over pink hair and medical directors.

“Boss,” Kakashi responded with a noise. “Doncha think we've been out here long enough? I miss those smoked bones from the village,”

Kakashi looked around, the trees' leaves blended into burnt-orange, yellow, and crisp red. The weeks blended into months and he guessed he'd been gone for about three months. “A couple more days,” he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! 
> 
> 明けましておめでとう～  
> Feliz año nuevo!  
> Happy new year!
> 
> *https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woodblock_printing_in_Japan for Sarada's coloring book.  
> Hito-san's full name is Otokono Hito (男の人　"man")　  
> Hiro is Naruto's assistant or whatever, the person who brings him all kinds of snacks.  
> Yui is the old lady that takes care of Sarada.  
> The above characters are just boring ones I invented for miscellaneous purposes.


	9. Me dediqué a perderte II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Short chapter because I am very tired from work. 
> 
> EDIT: CHAPTER FIXED IT SUCKS A LITTLE LESS
> 
> I will warn that this chapter does reference a less vanilla variety of bangin'. I am sorry if that disturbs any of you.
> 
> Chapter inspired by Alejandro Fernandez's "Me dediqué a perderte". He has a pretty voice.
> 
> Lazy Translations:  
> Title: I dedicated myself to losing you  
> Italicized text:  
> how is it that I never noticed  
> that you no longer smiled  
> and that before turning off the light  
> now you said nothing to me

_Como es que nunca me_ _fij_ _é_  
_que ya no sonreías_  
_y que antes de apagar la luz_  
_ya nada me decías_

 

Sakura switched off the light, slipped under the covers, and closed her eyes. She faced the direction opposite to Sasuke, keeping herself as close to the edge as possible. She wrapped her blankets tighter, strainging to keep her rage intact.

Impossible.

Veins popped up on her forehead, concealed by darkness.

Two weeks. Roughly 14 days of Sasuke staying in herbed in her room in what felt like _her_ house.

Nothing was _ours_. Nothing had even ever been _ours_. His clothes, his weapons. Those were his things. Everything else was Sakura's, Sarada's-- things foreign to him.

His lips turned downward at Sarada's childhood scatter of toys. Should five year olds do nothing but train? At Sarada's unkempt hair on the _rare_  morning she had off. Was styling a child's hair more important than breakfast?

He swallowed her quickly constructed dinners silently, swallowing pieces whole so he wouldn't have to taste it. What was wrong with grilled fish?

Before, she'd tried and tried to make him stay. For once. To be seen, perhaps acknowledged. For a day. To have what Ino, Hinata, _most women her age_ have.

Sakura tried to clear her mind, exhausted. Fighting daily with him and herself was like a thousand kilo weight pressing down against her energy, stifling and pressing her into a hard ball of anger. 

Sasuke slipped closer to her under the covers.

Sakura threw the covers off, standing and glaring in his general direction.Could she not even ruminate angrily in peace?

Before she'd kneel and please, lay down and please. Get down on all fours and please. Sasuke liked it a certain way, liked to dominate.

Submissiveness was uncomfortable; it went against her being. Like an orange trying to be meat. But there she'd been. A dumbass, letting him do whatever he wanted. So he'd value her.

“Don't touch me,” she stated, gathering her pillow and rummaging for an extra blanket in her closet, standing on tiptoes.

She slipped into Sarada's room, basking in the darkened princessy pink decor. Lying back, she repositioned her and Sarada's blankets, preparing for a hopefully peaceful slumber. Drowsiness pressed on her eyelids.

Sasuke's voice hissed from the doorway: “We're supposed to be reconciling,”

Sakura rose, gently brushing her daughter's hair away from her face. Stepping out, she closed the door, shivering.

“Reconciling?” he nodded.

“RECONCILING!”, a shout slipped as her fists shook. She dragged him downstairs, hoping she didn't wake their daughter.

“Why are you like this?” he asked, making her feel like he thought she was crazy while simultaneously sounding bored out of his mind. 

An ember reignited against her temper's wick.

“I am 'like this' because I. Do. Not. Want. To. Do. _This_.” she gestured broadly at the house.

Sasuke glared, his eyes narrowing again-- accusing.

She pulled at him by the collar of his shirt, enraged: “Don't fucking give me that bullshit look. I am not _fucking cheating on you_. If anyone here is cheating or cheated it's you! Where the _fuck_ have you even been?!” Sasuke opened his mouth. She slapped a hand over his mouth, her fingers vibrating from the suppressed strength. 

“I do not want to wake up Sarada. **You** are going to sit here and watch the house, I'll be back,” she thundered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this scene/chapter. In my plans it was much longer, but I'll roll with this.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
